


Self-Sacrifice

by nearlywitchin



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Cults, Deal with a Devil, F/M, Fatherhood, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, POV Brendon Urie, Self-Sacrifice, Soul Selling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearlywitchin/pseuds/nearlywitchin
Summary: Some people work their way to the top, others sell their souls.





	1. prologue

 

 

Crystal was working late tonight so she couldn’t tell him not to go. It would only take thirty minutes at the most and he’d be back home well before she would. Brendon loaded his one year old son Mason into his car seat and popped a pacifier in his mouth. It was almost 10 pm; the baby would be fast asleep in the next five minutes.

Brendon was nervous. He didn’t know what to expect but his mind wouldn’t stop feeding him unhappy endings to this meeting. He glanced at Mason from his rearview mirror, smiling in relief knowing he was sleep. Mason was a crier and Crystal was the only one who knew how to shut him up.

The GPS on Brendon’s phone led him to an office building in Downtown LA. He parked and managed to get the car seat out without waking the baby. The door to the building was unlocked, just as Anderson said it would be. Brendon took a deep breath and entered.

The lobby was dark and empty, only adding to Brendon’s anxiety. He turned on the flashlight on his cell phone to find the elevator. Anderson had told him he was on level 4, suite 265. Brendon knocked only to realize the door was already open.

He poked his head inside. “Anderson? Anderson Ailey?” It was pitch black in this room too.

“Brendon.” A lamp did away with some of the darkness. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for meeting with me so late. I know it wasn’t an ideal time.”

“Actually, this time is just right. Have a seat.” Anderson motioned to the empty sofa. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I shouldn’t.” He knew how he behaved with alcohol in his system and that behavior wouldn’t accommodate a one year old.

Anderson sat across from him and opened a box on the coffee table. “You didn’t bring your girlfriend?” he asked, taking out a deck of cards and shuffling them.

“Crystal isn’t my girlfriend,” Brendon said, watching Anderson spread the cards out on the table. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“You’re gonna tell her, right?” Anderson inquired. “Dishonesty is horrible for relationships.”

“We’re not really in a relationship…”

“Pick a card,” Anderson interjected. “Any card you want.”

Brendon hesitantly chose the card on the corner. It had a picture of a man sitting in front of a table with nine goblets. “What does this mean?”

“It’s a nine of cups,” Anderson said, taking the card out of Brendon’s hand. “It means a dream is about to come true for you.”

A grin tugged on Brendon’s lips. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“Maybe,” Anderson laughed. “Choose another card.”

Brendon picked a card toward the middle that displayed a blindfolded woman surrounded by eight swords. He handed it to Anderson.

“It looks like you’ll face some self-imposed limitations,” Anderson said. “I can help you with those.”

“What kind of limitations?”

“They may be an effect of that dream,” Anderson explained. “Tread lightly. Pick one more.”

Brendon’s last choice was a tower being struck by lightning, sending its occupants flying out the windows. He was afraid to show this one to Anderson.

“Disaster,” he said, glancing at baby Mason.

Brendon looked at his son. “What does that have to do with him?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to find out.” He cleaned up the extra cards and put them back in the box, leaving the three cards Brendon chose on the table. “You want to be famous, right?”

Brendon nodded. “It’s always been a dream of mine.”

“And why do you need my help?”

“I’m having trouble getting signed to a label,” Brendon began, reflecting on the many times his demos got rejected. “I know I have what it takes but other people just don’t care.”

“You’re extremely talented, there’s no doubt about that. I think you’re just lacking the connections that would make it easier to get signed.”

“And you have those connections?”

Anderson shrugged. “Maybe. Are you in?”

Brendon figured it was now or never. Crystal wasn’t going to let him come back. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Just let me get the contract.”

Brendon didn’t like the sound of a contract but he would’ve had to sign one if a label picked him up, right? It was inevitable.

He checked his phone to make sure Crystal didn’t call. Thankfully, Mason was still asleep and Brendon didn’t expect him to wake up anytime soon.

“Take your time reading over this.” Anderson came back with a packet of paper and a pen. “Once you sign it, it’s final. No backing out.”

Brendon nodded and read over every word. It didn’t sound as bad as he thought it would be. Anderson would provide everything he’d need for a flourishing career including a manager, a PR team, and security guards. All Brendon had to do was make music. It almost sounded too good to be true.

“That’s it?” Brendon asked, clicking the pen.

“That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. You get everything you’ve ever wanted just by signing that dotted line. Most people don’t have it that easy,” Anderson said.

Signing a piece of paper sounded a bit too easy. Brendon glanced at the three tarot cards on the table then at his son. He didn’t have any other options. He signed his name on the line.

“I’m gonna make you the biggest star in the world,” Anderson said as Brendon slid the contract back across the table. “All you have to do is follow the contract. Easy as that.”

“How long does the contract last?”

“Forever,” Anderson responded, shocked that he’d even received such a question. “You’re mine now. There’s nothing to worry about.” He leaned over to turn out the lamp, reverting the room back to darkness.


	2. 6 o'clock in New York

The alarm on Lucía's phone went off at six o'clock, signaling the end of the work day. She closed her laptop, filed papers into a drawer, and unplugged her phone from the wall charger. The phone calls and emails she hadn't returned would have to wait until seven AM the next day.  
She glanced out the window of the office and down at the people 40 stories below. They were dressed in trench coats and scarves so Lucía wrapped her own scarf around her neck. Fall was upon New York City.

She turned drew the blinds and stacked more papers into place while she waited for her sister to follow her lead. Violet sat at her desk, fully immersed in whatever was on her computer screen. Lucía scrolled through her Instagram feed. Sometimes Violet needed a few more minutes to disassociate from her work. Today it seemed like she would never stop typing.

"Vy, it's 6:06," Lucía said, double tapping a makeup tutorial. 

"I know, let me just finalize something really quick," Violet responded, opening a drawer and reaching for a manila folder.

"Can it wait because I'm tired."

"Then go home." Violet never understood why her sister waited around for her.

The phone rang, irritating Lucía more than her workaholic sister. "It's past six. I'm not answering that."

"Let it ring then." Violet drafted a new email. 

The phone rang two more times before Lucía gave in and answered just to gain peace of mind. Violet sent the email and remembered that she had one more thing to do. She would be finished by the time Lucía told the caller to get lost.

"Are you serious right now? We're closed. _Cerrado_." Lucía always said things in Spanish when people didn't understand her in English. 

"What do they want?" Violet asked, digging through the file cabinet. 

"Someone wants to meet with you but we're _closed_!" Lucía yelled into the receiver. "Get lost!"

"Who is it?" Violet laughed, always amused by her sister's respect for time.

"I don't care who it is. They can come back when they make an appointment because we're getting ready for a _runway show_ right now! We have no time for walk-ins!" She wouldn't stop yelling. 

"Just ask who it is, Lu. I'm not doing anything." 

"We're going home."

Violet snatched the phone out of Lucía's hand. "Rachel?"

"Hi, Violet," the receptionist said.

"Who's down there?"

"Brendon Urie."

Violet always got excited for celebrity guests and she didn't mind staying extra hours at work to design custom made garments. "Send him up. Thank you."

"Violet!" Lucía exclaimed. "I want to go home!"

"Then leave! No one's begging you to stay." Violet grabbed her iPad and the most recent look book for her brand Dominicana. "I have to go talk to Brendon Urie so I'll see you at home." 

Violet opened the door to her office and let her sister exit first. Lucía tossed her scarf around her neck and stomped toward the elevator, eager to get home. Violet flipped through the look book, marking some of her favorite outfits with sticky notes so she could show them off to her A-list client.

Her eyes lit up when the elevator chimed. She closed the look book and combed through her wavy dark hair. Very rarely did she look awry but she took great pride in her appearance. 

"Violet Santana?" A man in all black stepped out of the elevator, smiling at Violet as he unraveled his scarf from his neck. Brendon Urie was known to be one of the best dressed men in Hollywood. "So glad you could meet with me. I know it was last minute."

"No, it's completely fine. It's really nice to meet you. I'm a huge fan," Violet responded, shaking his hand. His skin was cold but wonderfully smooth. 

"Thank you so much. I'm becoming a fan of you too. People can't stop talking about you and after seeing some of your work I can understand why. You're really talented," Brendon said, his rosy pink lips curling into a smile. 

"Thank you. So tell me about what you're looking for," she said, leading him to a drawing room. She insisted that he take his coat off and get comfortable on the couch.

"I'm going to a charity event and it's really high profile. I've talked to a lot of other designers of a lot of other brands and haven't found anything especially impressive. I've worn a lot of suits so I need to mix it up, you know?" he explained, twisting the gold rings around his fingers.

"Definitely. I've always loved the way you dress. I picked a few looks that seem to match your style if you wanna take a look," Violet said, handing Brendon the look book.

Brendon methodically flipped through its pages, rubbing his fingers along the suits as if it were real fabric. Violet admired his attention to detail.

"This one," he said, pointing to a black suit with opulent red applique. "This one is so beautiful."

"That one was a huge deal," Violet replied with a nod. "I could do something like that for you. I'm kind of obsessed with the whole applique thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! But you don't wanna be seen in something from last season. Let me sketch you a new one," she said, opening her iPad. 

Brendon watched as she drew a new suit from scratch, carefully choosing her colors and lines. She glanced at him every once and a while to decide if her design fit him and smiled when their eyes met.

"How's this?" She handed her tablet over to him. "I was thinking the jacket would be velvet," she said, flipping through a ring of fabric samples. "It's classic but not out of date. The cuffs and lapels would have the red applique to add some personality. It'll be nice and tailored because velvet has to be done right, or else you'll look like someone's grandpa."

He laughed at that. "It's amazing. Better than the other suit even. I love the velvet idea."

"You said charity event and I immediately saw velvet. It's adding flare without being too eccentric."

"You're a genius."

"Please, it's nothing. Make an appointment for measurements as soon as possible, okay? My sister runs a tight schedule around here and we're really busy since it's runway season," Violet said. "When's your event?"

"Next Wednesday."

"Oh wow." She usually needed a month to prepare custom made garments, especially during runway season.

"I know it's really soon. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I'll do it for you. I need a break from all this commotion anyway. What's the charity?" 

Brendon ran a hand passed his neatly slicked back hair. "It's called Key to Wellness. It promotes mental health and things like that," he explained, maintaining eye contact with her. 

Violet didn't hear half of what he said because she nearly lost herself in his eyes. He wouldn't look away from her. His gaze was magnetic. 

"That sounds great!" What she heard sounded great at least.

"Yeah, it is." Brendon finally looked away to stare at his rings. He turned one around a few times, deep in thought. "Well, thank you so much for taking me on such short notice. I appreciate it."

"No problem. It was really nice to meet you." She shook his hand again and his skin warmed up since she shook it the first time. 

"Nice to meet you too." He put his coat back on and tied his scarf back around his neck with a smile on his face. "See you soon."

Violet nodded. "See you soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg it's been so long since i posted i'm sorry writer's block sucks. shocked this is even getting attention thank u :')

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first time writing on here and i'm still tryna figure out how this site works but ima do my best. thanks for reading xo


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